Paper.

Due to my constantly developing role within the company, I’ve recently added “Office Witch” to my CV. This is pretty cool, in the grand scheme of things. Not only do I get to play with the vast array of computer gadgets that pass through the office, but I also get to monitor and control the stationary cabinet. This is akin to letting Dracula manage the Blood Bank.

I have some weird fascination with stationary that spans many years, predating my ability to write in recognisable symbols. Even as a child, I was absorbed by my set of coloring-in pens and funky notebooks. I’d like to think that my sketches were simply highly stylised, rather than total crap, but despairing my own lack of artistic ability I used to fall back on the knowledge that I at least had a cool sketchpad.

So when the directive was given to “order whatever you think we need” for the office, I rubbed my hands with glee. I had visions of rows of shiny staplers and crisp hole-punchers. In reality, the shopping list was somewhat more down to earth and megre.

I sent off all the right signals and spoke to all the right people. Word was – I needed copy paper. The photocopier was looking emaciated and the fax machine was running dry. With all the authority of an experienced Office Witch, I rang through the order.

5000 sheets of your best A4! No scrimping!

This morning, the order arrived – two great big boxes full of various office supplies. Unwrapping notepads, fondling sharpened pencils, smelling the BluTack; It was all a bit like Christmas. But there was something amiss.

In place of my crisp wad of A4 stood 38 rolls of non-scented 2ply luxury toilet paper.

I was a little put off by the sticker on the bog roll box that described it as A4 copy paper. It had all the right barcodes. It had all the right order codes. I wondered if somebody was trying to give me a subtle hint about my network reports. They’re really not that bad, I promise!

The lady on the other end of the phone found it amusing. She had a little giggle when I told her that at our current rate of bog roll usage, it’s going to take us over 18 months to use up all of this non-scented 2ply “A4 copy paper”.

As a result, we got the bog rolls “with our compliments” and the much needed A4 will be arriving post-haste. Now, my only problem is trying to unjam the bogged up fax machine and finding a place to store all this loo paper….

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2 Responses

  1. Sarah says:

    Damn, girl, you ARE a writer.

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